


Getting to Know the Neighborhood

by vanilla_villain37 (van1lla_v1lla1n)



Series: multichapter modern aus (reylo) [4]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Bisexual Ben Solo, Butt Plugs, Dominant Rey, F/M, Food, Massage, No Pregnancy, Oral Sex, Past Ben Solo/Tai, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Size Difference, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, and now with the barest semblance of a plot!, ben is a vagina virgin, but still so soft, butt stuff, healthy communication during sex!, rey is a pegging virgin, they are soft soft soft switches, they are sweet awkward virgins together, they both try to be casual but PSYCH they get feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24290593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/van1lla_v1lla1n/pseuds/vanilla_villain37
Summary: Every day Ben walks his dog past Rey’s porch steps, where she sits out in the morning drinking her coffee. He's got this lumbering gait she can't get over, and one day she mutters, “dude, why're you walkin so wide?”He overhears her and smirks. “I’m not sure a good girl like you really wants the answer to that question.”
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: multichapter modern aus (reylo) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859416
Comments: 93
Kudos: 295
Collections: Queerly Beloved Reylo Fics, Reylo Pegging Fics, The Sub!Ben Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenOfCarrotFlowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfCarrotFlowers/gifts), [IAmYourCaptainNow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmYourCaptainNow/gifts), [misscharleypollard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misscharleypollard/gifts).



> Based on a prompt I [posted on Twitter](https://twitter.com/van1lla_v1lla1n/status/1262388369415458820) earlier this week.
> 
> Thanks to QueenOfCarrotFlowers and IAmYourCaptainNow for egging me on about the prompt and to Miztooka for the extra encouragement :))

Since Rey moved into this new neighborhood a month ago, she’s made a habit of sitting out on her front porch steps to drink her coffee every morning. It gets her outside, lets her get to know her neighbors a little better. Especially the one with the dog.

Cute dog, absolute elk of a man. Walks by a few times a week; she hasn’t been able to figure out his schedule, if he has one. Handsome fucker, though. Sometimes he nods his head a little at her, but the most he’s ever said is a quiet “hello” if she calls out a friendly greeting. Sometimes she’s not sure he hears her at all, if he’s actually smiling back at her or if his face just twitched.

He’s got this lumbering gait, never would’ve cut it in a marching band. She doesn’t know if he notices her staring every time he walks by, but if he does, even that doesn’t make him talk to her. So at some point she quit bothering to hide it. Sometimes when she spots him she lets herself stretch out her legs a little, leaning back to rest her elbows on the top step.

She does that today as he rounds the street corner. It’s early, and she’s still in her loose sleep shorts. His gait is _extra_ wide today; why’s he gotta swing his knees out like that? He always walks like he’s packing heat, but today it’s almost like he’s _sore_. Her friend Finn would say he’s walking like he’s got a corncob up his ass. And that makes her think of the strap she has upstairs—the one her uptight and frankly toxically masculine bastard of an ex, Hux, freaked the fuck out about when she bought it. The one she’s tried on and daydreamed about and prepared for but never actually gotten to use.

An image flashes unbidden into her head as she stares blankly at this man walking down the sidewalk: his bare torso flushed and sweaty, knees bent up, and her between them—his dick hard hard hard on his belly and her hips thrusting up against his ass—her hands gripping his thighs to hold him still as he squirms—and _fuck_ she’s blushing. She knows fantasies like that are normal, but this poor man’s just trying to walk his dog, for fuck’s sake. And here she is imagining herself fucking him in the ass.

She sees him looking and not looking and looking at her long legs stretched out on the steps. She crosses them at the ankle, feeling a little shy now because of her overactive imagination and not wanting to just sit there with her cunt practically hanging out of these tiny shorts. (And the way her squeezed-tight thighs give her just a little pressure there doesn’t hurt either.) She’s still blushing but he doesn’t look up to see it; she says “hey, neighbor,” but he doesn’t respond. Maybe he’s wearing earbuds under all that hair.

He lumbers past, and watching his back she mutters, “Brah, why you walkin’ so wide?” And then she curses at herself under her breath because she said that _out loud_ —she really should consider getting a roommate just so she’ll stop talking to herself like this. She hopes he didn’t hear, but then he’s turning to face her, and he’s _smirking_. In her head Rey’s screaming incoherently; she can’t _believe_ herself, she can’t believe she was such a horny ditz and he _heard_ _her_.

He says, “I’m not sure a good girl like you really wants the answer to that question.” And then he and his dog just stand there looking at her. She looks at the dog, looks up at the man’s face. And then she brings her feet back up the steps, leans forward over her knees.

She says, “Do I look like a good girl?” He looks down at her knees and she lets them fall just an inch apart. He notices; she sees his nostrils flare, his jaw tense. He looks up the street and swallows. Looks back at her, studies her, his head quirking to the side like his dog’s. Ridiculous, the pair of them.

He says, “Well, you certainly don’t look like the type of girl who’d like to hear my ass is sore because I gravely underestimated a new toy.” Rey can’t believe he said that, and she’s not sure _he_ can believe he said it either, with the way his eyes have widened, his cheeks reddened. That image of a flushed, bare chest flashes back into her mind and she blinks hard to shoo it off. The street seems completely silent now; all she hears is a ringing in her ears and then, suddenly, her own deep breath.

She says, “I think, actually, I might be _exactly_ that type of girl.” He looks a little panicked for a second, and she worries she was supposed to laugh that off, pretend that he hadn’t meant it or maybe that he hadn’t said it at all.

He says, “Um,” a swallow, an inhale, and then, “Oh.” She smiles, probably a little awkwardly, but he’s already looking back up the street, and she’s not sure he sees it.

He says, “Um. This is my dog. Chewie.” Rey smiles genuinely now, scoots down a step and leans forward to hold her hand out to the dog.

She says, “Hello, friend,” and gives Chewie’s head a few pats when he nuzzles her hand. She says, “I’m Rey,” but she’s still looking at the dog.

She looks up at the man, says, “Do you also have a name?”

He clears his throat. “Ben.”

She holds her hand out to him now, just as she’d done for Chewie, and he looks at it before taking it. His is . . . a warm hand. A _large_ , warm hand. Nice hand. His hips are at her eye level and she stares hard at their hands, feeling her lizard brain pressuring her to glance just behind them at his fly and _begging_ herself not to give in to that compulsion.

She says, “Would you want some coffee, Ben?” He squeezes his hand into his pocket, looks down at the near-empty mug sitting next to her on the step.

He says, “I’ve got to . . . get Chewie home. For breakfast. But, um, maybe later—later today?”

She nods. “Well, you know where I live. Come by whenever.” Which feels a little bold, not to mention a little stupid, but he must already _know_ she lives here, given that she’s still very obviously in her pajamas. But he seems so sweet. And he did introduce her to his dog. If anything the dog is a worthwhile judge of character, she thinks.

He smiles at her hesitantly, says, “Um. Okay—I’ll see you, later. Rey.” And he nods at her and turns, starting to walk back the way he’d come from, but Chewie tries to keep going the way they usually go. Ben tugs a little at the leash, muttering, and after a minute they untangle themselves and Ben smiles awkwardly without meeting her eye as they finally walk off.

Rey grins—she can’t help it—watching them round the corner, watching that lumbering gait and trying to figure out how this man is simultaneously so massive and so adorable. And, knowing now that he might actually be _into_ it, she lets herself bring up that image of him squirming, panting under her, and she hopes and hopes that he’ll come back and not just change his walking route so he never has to see her again.

***

Rey jumps at a knock on her door early that afternoon. She’d been waiting for Ben to come back, pretending she wasn’t—tidying her place much more thoroughly than she normally would, showering, snacking, peeking in her drawer at her strap-on, then making sure it was clean and that the lube she had really was the right kind and that everything fit her right and that she could put it on without taking an hour to sort out all the adjustments—normal Saturday activities, nothing special.

By one o’clock she’d picked up a book and was telling herself he might not come back, that it’d really be fine if he didn’t. But then she hears that knock and remembers she’d offered him coffee, remembers she’s been drinking coffee all day and that’s probably why she’s so jittery right now, remembers she had in fact drank the whole pot so now he’ll have to wait for her to make more.

Even as she walks to the door she’s reminding herself it might not be Ben who knocked. It could be anybody. Amazon delivery. Jehovah’s Witnesses. Political canvassers. But when she opens the door, it’s not anybody—it’s Ben. He’s wearing the same thing he was earlier, those fitted jeans and a maroon t-shirt and a light jacket.

He says, “Hi, Rey. Is this—a good time?”

“Hi! Yes! Of course. As long as you don’t mind waiting a bit for me to make more coffee.” And she steps to the side to let him in.

“Not at all.” He pauses inside, and she tells him he can sit down if he likes as she walks into her little kitchen. He follows her past the couch though, sits down at the kitchen table behind her as she fidgets with the coffee things at the counter. He makes small talk as she preps the filter and measures the grounds and hopes he won’t judge her shitty drip coffee too harshly.

She sits down at the table with him while the coffee brews and is glad she’d finally invested in a second chair when she moved here. She watches him as he talks, as he asks her earnest questions: the way his eyebrows quirk up when he listens to her, the way his hands move when he’s trying to get to a point, the way his shoulder shrugs when he self-deprecates, the way one knee falls to the side as he starts to relax with her.

She sets out sugar and half-and-half when the coffeepot’s full and watches him choose a mug, dump several spoonfuls of sugar and so much cream into it. They sit back down at the table and the conversation broadens. Ben mentions an ex and immediately winces, apologizes, but Rey doesn’t mind, and she tells him so. She notices the way his feet point toward her, the way his jeans stretch across his thighs, the way his eyes catch on her wrists where her sleeves are pushed up and on her collarbone where the collar of her sweater dips down.

When her own mug is empty she stands up to rinse it out—it’s an excuse she hopes isn’t too obvious. He looks up at her when she turns around, and before she can second-guess herself she straddles his lap and kisses him. He tastes like coffee and so, so sweet. His chest is warm under her hands, his shirt soft, and the skin of his neck hot and smooth.

After a minute she starts to pull back but he deepens the kiss with a hand in her hair before he lets her go. And when she does stop to look at him he smiles.

She asks, “Okay?” and in response he pulls her back down to him. When he opens his mouth to her and lets his tongue brush against hers sweet and cool, she rolls her hips against his, feels his hand grip her sweater. He dips that hand under the hem to skim hot over her ribs and she huffs out a breath into his mouth, feels him inhale deep, breathing her into him.

And when they’re both breathless and their hair messy and clothes rumpled she noses his ear, murmurs against it, “Can I fuck you?” His mouth at her neck, he whispers, “ _Please_.”

She pushes his jacket off his shoulders, pulls off his t-shirt, lets her hands revel in the warm skin of his chest, touch the soft hair trailing up from his waistband, pinch lightly at his little tummy there. She lets him tug off her sweater, grasps his hair when he bows his head to lave his tongue over her tits, one and the other. She sighs as he nuzzles into her sternum, watches his thumbs rub over her nipples, tweak them, his hands spanning her ribcage.

He plays with them as he presses his face back into her neck, and he says, “Rey,” pauses to kiss behind her ear, and then, “Rey.” She tries to look down at him but his hands on her ribs hold her still; she rubs his shoulders, his neck, says, “Mmhmm?”

He says, “I haven’t—,” and sighs. “I’m not a virgin but I’ve never been with a woman.” And now she does pull back, but she doesn’t look at his face, just kisses him hard on the mouth. Then, her lips on his forehead, she says, “Okay.” She holds his head against her chest and says, “Well, I’ve never fucked anyone in the ass before, so if you help me then I’ll help you.” He laughs and says, “I can do that.”

She stands up and takes his hand. “Can I show you my bedroom?” He follows her, and halfway down the hall she presses him against the wall. She holds him there with gentle pressure at his hips as she rubs her face into his chest, happy now that she has access to it. She sucks at one of his nipples, licks over it and nips at it when it hardens under her tongue.

She trails one hand over his fly, feels his erection straining hard underneath it, and crouches down to press her mouth open against it. She breathes hot through the denim and his hips tilt under her hands, chasing the pressure and the heat of her mouth. He’s breathing hard but he’s so _quiet_ and she wants to hear him.

She slides her mouth down and then back up toward the button of his jeans, tracing the shape of his cock through them. She lets her teeth scrape lightly over him, sucks at the tip of him, wetting the denim. She thinks she hears just the lightest groan at that and she does it again, harder. Settling on her knees she unzips his jeans, letting a finger trace down his cock above the zipper. After a glance up at his face, her hands paused at the waistband of his boxers, she pulls them down to free him and takes the head of him into her mouth.

His hands are fisted at his sides and she takes them in her own and places them on her head; he weaves his fingers through her hair. She knows she’s moving fast but she wants him in her mouth, wants to be full of him _somewhere_. She slides her mouth down over him and moans softly when she tastes his precum on the back of her tongue, and _finally_ that loosens him up—his hands tighten just slightly in her hair and a low groan escapes from his throat.

She stands up to kiss him, and he holds her tight to his chest. He says, “Bedroom,” his voice a low rumble, and she takes his hand again to pull him the rest of the way down the hall. She lets him take off her jeans and underwear together, his hands skimming her thighs, his mouth kissing her hip.

She says, “I want you to fuck me first, okay?” And she kisses him when he nods, and she asks, “How do you want me?”

Ben considers, replies, “Hands and knees? I want to see you.”

She smiles, climbs up on the bed. She feels exposed this way, but she likes it, knowing he’s studying her. His hands trace the backs of her thighs, then inside them, up toward her cunt, and she arches her back. His fingers trail lightly over her labia, a fingertip pressing just barely into her and sliding back down to find her clit. He holds her hips, and she barely has time to register his breath on her vulva before she feels his tongue laving hot from her clit up to her ass.

“ _Fuck._ You taste so good.” She feels his voice in her cunt and her breath catches. And then he’s licking her again; he suckles at her inner labia and grazes his tongue over her clit and dips it inside her cunt. Rey presses her chest down against the bed, opening herself up to him as much as she can, and feels his groan vibrate through her. He pulls away, and his hands are at her thighs, spreading her further.

He slides a finger into her and hums: “So _soft_. I’m gonna fuck you here, okay?” He’s rubbing little circles inside her against her front wall, and Rey’s clit is throbbing and she can barely think but she says, “Okay. _Please_.”

He slides his finger out, and her brain catches up. She says, “I’m on birth control and I’ve been tested but I have a condom if you want.” She sits up over her knees to look back at him, just in time to see him pulling his finger from his mouth.

He says, “I have too but I think a condom would be good, if that’s okay.” She could love this careful, thoughtful man. She takes his face in her hands and kisses him in reply, hands him one from the box in her drawer, settles back on hands and knees. After a few breaths she feels his dick press against her cunt and she arches back a little for him as he sorts out the angle.

She thinks they’re both holding their breath as he slides into her, and they both exhale harshly when his hips come flush against her ass. He’s breathing hard and shallow, his hands rubbing her hips, and she takes the moment to adjust to him. She is _so full_ and she is reveling in it. She clenches around him and he gasps; she tilts her hips just slightly and feels the head of him bump against a spot deep inside her and he lets out the tiniest whimper.

He’s still not moving, so she takes over: she slides forward on him slowly, presses back onto him, grinds her ass firmly against him to take him in deep. He’s quiet behind her but she can still hear his shallow breaths, feel his hands tighten on her hips, so she keeps at it, fucking herself on him and arching her back to take him inside her just how she likes.

When he starts to thrust his hips to meet hers, she says softly, “ _Yes_ , good good good.” He keeps the angle just right, hitting that perfect spot deep inside her, and her clit is begging to be touched. She leans her chest down into the comforter, and with her face pressed to the side like this she can just catch glimpses of him moving behind her.

He leans over her to rest one hand next to her shoulder and says, “I want you to come. Tell me how to get you there.”

She moans at his voice in her ear, says, “You’re doing so good. I’ll come, I’m going to. Just keep doing that.” She strokes a finger over her clit and whines and his thrusts are somehow even _deeper_ with the way he’s leaning over her and _fuck_ she _is_ going to come soon, she’s already close.

“So good, Ben. Just a little faster. _Yes_ , yes—just like that.” He’s got a hand on her shoulder now, holding her torso still, and he’s sped up just enough, and when she moves her hand out of the way his balls slap against her clit and she keens.

“More, just a little more, please please—so good, Ben, good good good.” She flicks her fingers fast over her clit and he’s fucking her deep and fast to match them and then she’s _there_ and she’s _coming_ and gripping the comforter and pressing her hips back as hard as she can to let him fuck her through it, every thrust thrumming over the keyed-up nerves inside her.

She catches her breath as he slows down for her. She comes back up on her hands, and he slides out of her and fumbles with the condom, then collapses on his back next to her on the bed. She crawls over him to kiss him, to praise him while she can see his face.

She says, “You’re perfect,” and he says, “I like you talking to me.” He brushes her hair back from her face.

She says, “Your turn. Get comfy.” And she slides off the bed to get out her strap-on. It’s cute, she thinks, and blue, and it doesn’t actually _have_ to have a harness but she’d got one anyway, just in case, and she’s glad she did. It’s felt a little more secure, when she’s tried it on that way. But she likes the way it sits inside her, likes the little ridges meant to bump against her clit.

Ben watches her slide the bulb end into herself and step into the harness. She tosses her bottle of lube at him as she adjusts the straps and he catches it and laughs.

After a minute she puts her hands on her hips and turns to face him, asks, “How do I look?”

He smiles and says, “You’re adorable. And so hot. Come back.” She climbs back up on the bed and settles between his legs and his face turns more serious. She takes the lube and squeezes out maybe too much into her hand, spreads it in broad strokes up his dick, over his balls, and then, looking up into his face for assurance, lower, between his cheeks. The side of her finger slides against his little hole and it’s so hot and so tight, and she’s never felt this need to be _in_ something the way she wants to be inside Ben right now. Sliding her hand back up she lets a fingertip brush up against his hole, press into it just lightly, and he whimpers softly.

She says, “Talk to me. Tell me if you want something different,” and he nods, says, “I will.” She wraps her other hand around his cock, stroking it slowly as lower she circles the taut ridges of him with a fingertip. He whispers, “ _Yes,_ ” and with her gaze riveted on his face she presses her finger into him, just to the first knuckle. She slides it out, rubs over him, and when he nods she slides it back in, a little further this time.

She says softly, “So relaxed for me. So good.” And it’s true—her finger’s sliding into him so easily now, and she’s so entranced by how hot he is inside and how hot he _looks_ with his legs spread around her like this that she forgets to move her hand on his dick, hard and slick on his belly.

She says, “Two?” and he whispers, “Please,” and groans when she pulls her finger out to press back in with two. He’s resting his head on one hand, his bicep flexed next to his face, and Rey could stare at him all day.

He says, “Press up,” and when she does, rubbing over the hard ridge inside him, his cock throbs in her hand.

He says, “Fuck, Rey, please fuck me.” She eases her fingers from his ass, rubs over that smooth bit of skin above it. With her other hand she takes his wrist and moves his hand to his dick, then she slicks her strap with more lube. She shuffles her knees up under his thighs, leans back to look down at him. She fumbles a little and tries not to blush, but he praises her just as she’d done for him, murmuring softly until she gets it just right and slides into him and his eyes close and his mouth falls open and silent.

She thrusts into him slowly, figuring out the movement, enjoying the thickness of her end of the toy inside her and watching Ben’s face closely. She holds onto his thighs just under his hipbones, wishing this silicone thing had nerve endings so she could have some idea of what he was feeling, and pulls her hips back to slide out of him. He’s quiet, his eyes still closed, and she wants to ask him if this is okay, but she feels he’d tell her if it wasn’t.

When she cups his balls, wraps her hand under his around the base of his dick, he opens his eyes to look at her, and his eyebrows take that earnest slant she’d noticed when he was listening to her earlier, in the kitchen. She _loves_ that look, thinks again that she could love this person, and then she smacks that thought out of her mind because she’s not sure what he wants from this but it might not be _that_.

He wraps his hand over hers around his cock and begins to stroke himself. And it’s like he’s doing it through her, letting her _feel_ what he likes, what he wants. With one hand on his hip to stabilize herself, she tries to thrust her hips _up_ just a little, thinking of the way he’d asked her to press up with her fingers.

She finally gets into a rhythm this way, letting him use her hand on his dick and thrusting her hips steadily against him, and she lets herself get into it. She watches the pleasure play across his face, watches the muscles in his arms flex, watches his abs tighten when she fucks into him just right. And with each thrust she feels the ridges of the toy rub against her already sensitive clit, the steady rhythmic pressure working her up to another orgasm.

He moves her hand to his balls, presses her fingers against the smooth skin beneath them. His face is rapt, and Rey is enraptured watching him. He’s stroking himself almost harshly now, faster than he could do with her hand under his. She’s on this power high with the knowledge that she’s fucking him—that she’s got this massive man writhing under her, blissed out by _her._

As she watches his face tense up and hears a groan escape from his mouth, another orgasm washes over her, her cunt clenching down on the toy and her hips thrusting hard to rub her clit against it, and Ben is coming with her. His shoulders lift up off the bed as his body hunches taut toward her, his hand stuttering over his dick as it spurts over his belly and chest. Rey slows her hips to time small movements with her aftershocks, letting him come down with her.

She gives him a minute to catch his breath, waits for him to open his eyes to look at her before she pulls out of him, not wanting to hurt him. After she slips out she leans over to kiss him and nuzzle his nose, and he smiles back up at her a little sleepily. Down the hall in the bathroom she takes off the harness and cleans herself and the toy quickly, letting the water run warm for a washcloth.

When she brings it back to the bedroom, Ben’s lying in the same position, eyes closed, and he startles a little when she starts to wipe off his chest. He says, “Thank you,” takes the cloth from her, pulls her back into the bed to lie next to him. He brushes her hair from her face and his smile is so sweet as he looks at her that Rey’s chest hurts. He kisses her drowsily.

He says, “I should go home before I pass out.”

And Rey feels a little shy but she says, “You could take a nap here, if you want.” She wouldn’t mind, really, somewhat to her surprise. She hardly knows him but the idea of him sleeping in her bed in the middle of a Saturday afternoon makes her _feel_ things _._

“That’s alright,” he says. “I should probably check on Chewie anyway. And it’s not that long a walk.” He sits up, and she sits up next to him, turning toward the edge of the bed, away from him.

She really should respond but all she can think of is how much that _hurts_ and how much she didn’t expect it to. She’d tried to temper her expectations for this but obviously she’d done a shitty job. So she’s just sitting there with her mouth open and a different pain in her chest and her face going a little red as she stares at the wall.

Ben moves to sit next to her, the side of his body, his shoulder, his thigh pressed flush against hers. He’s holding her washcloth in his lap, fidgeting with it and folding it.

So softly he says, “I like you so much, Rey. And this was . . . _good_. So good. I just don’t think my brain’s caught up yet. I don’t know what you expected from this I guess but I’d really like to see you again.”

When she glances over at him, she finds he’s staring down at his hands. She says, “I’d like that a lot.” She’s still reeling a little, trying to sort out everything he said—that he liked her, _so much_ , that she did good—but she wants to offer something back, to even things out.

She says, “Maybe, you could stop by on your walk tomorrow, and I can make you and Chewie breakfast?” Her toes are curled tight and she tucks her feet under the side of the bed. She hopes that’s not too much, too soon.

Now he does look at her and he’s _beaming_. He says, “Yes, that sounds great.” He says, “Okay, good,” almost to himself, like everything’s settled, sorted. And he stands up to gather his pants, tosses the washcloth in her hamper. She pulls on a big t-shirt, follows him into the kitchen, admiring the muscles in his back.

Before he can get his shirt back on she wraps her arms around him, pressing her face into his shoulder blade and kissing his spine. What she wants to do is kiss his face again, but she worries that’d be too much. What’s _too much_ when you just pegged a dude and you’re making him breakfast tomorrow?

At the door he turns around to face her and pauses as he looks down into her face. He crouches down to kiss her once, softly, lingering for just a second. _So, not too much, maybe._ He pulls her in for a hug, says into her hair, “See you tomorrow.” And then he’s gone.

When Rey shuts the door behind him she realizes she has no way to contact him, no idea when he’s coming over. She can’t exactly chase him down the street—she’s not wearing pants.

Just as she’s hurrying back to her bedroom she hears a knock at the door and she rushes to answer it, hoping to god for the second time today that it’s Ben and not a door-to-door evangelist. And for the second time today it is, and he looks as out of breath as she feels when she peeks around the door at him.

In a rush he says, “Nine? I’ll be here at nine? Is that okay?” And she’s laughing because he’s so earnest and maybe this is a thing for him, knowing exactly what she needs him to say. She could love him for that.

She says, “I’ll see you at nine,” and pulls his face down to hers to kiss him. And she’s positive it isn’t too much.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben comes back for breakfast Sunday morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really did intend this to be a one-shot, but here we are with a chapter 2. The heart wants what it wants, and my heart wanted more soft femdom, I guess.
> 
> Thanks to QueenOfCarrotFlowers for the plot ideas for this follow-up chapter and to Vulpines for helping me get past the "meat place" writer's block 💕

Ben knocks on Rey’s door promptly at 9 on Sunday morning. She’s got stacks of pancakes on plates in the warm oven, coffee made; she’s ready this time. She even picked up all of her shoes, just in case Chewie’s a chewer. She doesn’t know where he got his name, but maybe that’s it.

Chewie dashes inside the second she gets the door open, and Ben drops the leash to kiss her, both hands on her face, and she forgets to wonder where the dog ran off to. He’s grinning when he pulls away.

“Hi,” she says, and she kisses him again before she runs after Chewie, worrying he’s nabbed food off the table. He’s just sniffing around in the kitchen, though, when she gets there.

“What a good boy,” she says, and sets a bowl she’d prepared for him down on the floor. She kneels next to him, careful to keep her knees pressed together in her dress, and ruffles the dog’s furry neck as he laps up the orange liquid. When she looks up, Ben’s smiling a little, but his eyebrows are furrowed.

She says, “It’s a dog smoothie! I found it on Pinterest. It’s just pumpkin and yogurt and banana.” Ben’s just looking at her and not saying anything and it’s making her a little nervous. She’s never had a dog; she doesn’t know what dogs eat. But he’s not snatching the bowl up off the floor, so that must be a good sign. “That’s all fine for dogs, right?”

“Of course! Yes—I just think it’s adorable. I mean, I thought you were joking about making breakfast for both of us. And here you are spoiling Chewie with his own smoothie.”

“Well, I couldn’t leave him out in the cold,” Rey says, blushing. Ben’s wearing cozy, brunchy clothes today—the same jeans, maybe, but with a nice sweater. Dressed up, but not too much. She’s been rushing around so much she’s barely even had the chance to look at him yet.

She’s just been standing here staring at him and she stutters a bit, realizing it, says, “Pancakes?” Ben sits down as she sets the plates on the table beside the toppings. She watches him slather peanut butter and honey on each pancake in his stack.

She says, “How was your day yesterday?”

And he says, “Before or after you?” He’s bold right now, still blushing but eyes bright, like they were when he first spoke to her yesterday on the porch, before he got shy.

“After?”

“I missed you,” he says, and then he does get shy, reaches down to pet Chewie, who’s settled in next to his chair on the floor. “But good, otherwise.”

Rey’s not sure how to respond to that admission. She says, “How was your first time fucking a vagina?”

Ben’s blush splotches down to his neck, but his smile brightens his eyes again. “Ten out of ten—would recommend.” He pats Chewie’s head, his shoulder hitching up, and says, “Really though, it was good. Soft, I guess. Not that you’re loose—I know that’s, like, not supposed to be a good vagina thing—but soft in a nice way. A comfortable way. Like . . . welcoming.”

“Good—you were definitely welcome,” Rey says, and wishes he would look up to see her smiling at him.

Ben rests his elbow on the table, his chin on his fist, stares off at the wall above her head. “And I like your body. This is obvious I guess, but it’s so different than what I’m used to. But still a body, a nice one.”

He pauses to take a small bite, and says, “I like that you don’t shave. Sometimes I can’t get into normal porn, because the women are all so hairless, and sometimes that’s nice because you can see so much, and I’m sure it’s probably soft, but other times it just feels . . . alien, to me.”

He meets her eye now, slightly chagrined, says, “Sorry if that was oversharing. How was your first time fucking an ass?”

Rey laughs. “Awkward, a little, just at first. Although I hope it wasn’t for you. I think for me it was also . . . my ex was so appalled when I bought the strap-on. Horrified at even the prospect. And even though _you_ liked the idea it was hard to get past that initial reaction in my head. Not that I was just thinking about my ex the whole time—”

“No, I know what you mean. Just the feeling.”

“But it was nice after that, once I got out of my head and got the hang of the motion. I think . . . there’s a power in it that I don’t usually have access to. In fucking someone. In giving something, instead of just receiving, even if you try to receive in an active way.”

“And you liked that part of it?”

“And also the part where I got to watch you totally fucking fall apart on my dick,” she says, giving him her most smug face.

Ben quirks an eyebrow at her, says, “I think you fell apart on my dick first,” and Rey stands up so fast her chair grates loudly on the floor, startling Chewie. Pancakes forgotten. She stalks over to loom over Ben, hands on her hips, but she feels the effect’s almost lost since his head still comes to her chin, even when he’s sitting.

“Is that a challenge?” she asks.

“Is it?”

“I think it is,” she says, and swings a leg over to straddle his lap. She’d intended to stay standing but her legs won’t comfortably reach, so she settles down—a sacrifice, truly—with her hands on Ben’s shoulders, her face hovering right over his. Her dress hitches up her thighs.

He says, “Want to know the part I liked best about fucking you?”

He pauses then, and his fingers trail up the soft hair on her calf to the smooth skin behind her knee.

“What part?”

“Maybe that there are so many ways I could fuck you.” He pauses, his gaze intense now that it’s trained on her, his hands hot at her waist. “I want to fuck you everywhere, I want to be inside you everywhere, and I think . . . I think you also want that.”

If it was a challenge, Rey thinks, then she’s definitely losing right now. Ben just threw down the fucking gauntlet.

“I do. I do want that,” she says softly. She leans impossibly closer to his face, Ben’s focus on her mouth. And then, her hand on his throat, she bites his lower lip, lets go to slide her own mouth open over his, darts her tongue out to taste honey and coffee. She strokes one side of his throat with her thumb, slides her other hand up into his hair.

Ben’s hands rover back over her ass, hitching her dress up to her waist as he deepens the kiss, pressing her forward to grind her down over his growing erection. He groans as he does it, then breaks away to look her in the face.

He says, “Chewie’s going to eat the pancakes.”

Rey says, “I don’t care,” already chasing back to his mouth, and then Ben’s standing and wrapping her legs around him, his hands gripping her ass. Rey slides her nose down the side of his neck as he walks down the hall, nips at his ear, pulling his collar over to suck a mark above his shoulder.

He sets her down on the edge of her bed, lifts her dress up over her head. He starts to press her back into the bed but she grips his belt buckle, undoes it, shucks off his jeans as he toes off his shoes. By the time Rey pulls him down next to her in the bed, they’re both naked except for Rey in her sheer panties.

She crawls up over Ben on all fours, leaning down to kiss him again as his hands find her hips, tracing the exposed crease there. She works her way up to kneel over his face, his mouth chasing kisses down her sternum and belly as long as he can, then pressing hot and open over her cunt. He runs his tongue over her firmly, tasting her through the thin fabric.

Rey looks down at him, pinching her nipples between her fingers, to see his eyes closed, his tongue lapping at her and his nose bumping at her clit. He shifts, and his finger slips around her underwear and into her cunt, and her own eyes close now, her back arching.

Judging by his intensity Ben would do this for hours, but Rey’s ready for something else, so she shifts back down to sit between his legs, pausing to kiss her taste off his mouth. She stands up on the bed to tug off her panties, enjoying Ben’s eyes riveted to her body above him, and kneels back down to roll a condom down over him.

She slides onto his cock slow, watching his face as she takes him full inside her and his lips part as she grinds down to press him even deeper. She leans up over him to brace a hand on his chest, another possessive back at his throat, and using his body for leverage she fucks herself on him, luxuriating.

She leans up and bounces on him, and Ben’s hands find her hips to press up into her as deep as she can take him. She strokes a finger over swollen clit; she could come from this, the way Ben’s filling her and thrusting hard into her. His eyes are squeezed shut, his back arching up under her, but they flash open as she slows and takes his face in her hands, licks into his mouth.

When she pulls up off of him, reaching for a drawer, he whimpers, grasping at her hips. She settles back down between his legs with lube and her butt plug, green silicone with a bright white flower at the end. Ben smirks, looking at it.

“Listen, it was on sale!”

“Did I complain?”

Rey pinches the inside of his thigh playfully. She leans up over his face, says, “Wouldn’t you like to come with your cock inside me and also have something for this cute little ass to clench down on? Hmm?”

Ben nods, and she smooths lube over his balls and down between his cheeks, loosening him up. She slides a finger into him, strokes over that hard ridge inside him with a fingertip. As she eases the plug into him, she appreciates the view of his ass with that little flower sprouting out from it, his dick twitching and seeming even harder on his belly.

She straddles his hips again, spreads lube over her vulva, slicking her clit. She takes her time, watching Ben watch her. As she takes him back inside her she whispers in his ear: “ _Do what you feel like, Ben_.” And he groans, bites at her shoulder, grips her ass with one hand and the back of her neck with the other and begins to thrust up into her hard and fast and heavy, holding her still above him.

With his hands holding her tight and his soft low sounds in her ear and his cock deep inside her and his pelvic bone bumping her clit, Rey feels suddenly close close close to coming, if only Ben doesn’t slow down—and he doesn’t.

“Good good good,” she says, “my good boy,” breathless against his neck, his thrusts forcing the words out of her.

She tilts her hips down to take him in, and just then Ben says, “Dinner, please have dinner with me, please please,” and Rey says, “Fuck yes, okay, okay”—and with the slightest pressure of her fingers on her clit she’s clutching at Ben’s neck, her mouth frozen open and silent as she comes on his cock.

He’s quick to follow, Rey’s high moans against his neck and her orgasm-clenched cunt working him up until he fucks her with one last deep stroke and holds and growls. She catches her breath over him, touching his cheeks, his closed eyelids as he comes down.

Rey nuzzles her nose against his when he opens his eyes, and she slides off and shows him to the bathroom. As she leaves him to clean up she wishes she could catch one last glimpse of that flower—but maybe, hopefully, there’ll be other chances.

Still naked she wanders into the kitchen to find Chewie blissed out on their leftover pancakes on the floor, their plates licked clean but none broken, thankfully. She stoops down to rub his full belly and his tail thumps lazily on the floor.

“I told you he’d eat the pancakes.” Rey glances behind her to see Ben already half-dressed.

“But look how happy he is now,” she says.

“This is going to be a thing, isn’t it, you spoiling him?” Ben asks.

Rey stands up to hug him, presses her cheek against his chest. “Just giving him what he deserves.”

“So dinner, when?” she asks.

“Tonight, I hoped? Is that okay?”

“Definitely. Did you have someplace in mind?”

Ben steps away to pull his sweater over his head, his words muffled while he’s tangled up in it: “Maybe, but what sounds good to you?”

Rey hasn’t lived in this neighborhood long enough to know what restaurants are good or not, and she panics a little bit. “Have you been to, uh, that meat place? The one down the street?” She’s sure she’s walked past a steakhouse nearby . . . or maybe it was a taqueria? The menu outside definitely had pictures of meat on it, though.

“Um . . . maybe?” Ben’s looking for Chewie’s leash now. “I’m sure I can find it. I’ll make us a reservation for 7:00?”

Rey’s not sure this is the type of place that would take a reservation, but she hasn’t been there, so maybe it is? “7:00 works."

“Great. I’ll be here at 6:30 and we can walk there.” Ben gives her a kiss at the door, and he and Chewie are off.

***

The second he gets home, Ben googles “meat places near me.” Fuckin’ _meat place_? He likes Rey; he likes Rey a lot. But what does that mean? A meat place could be anything. Everywhere has meat.

He finds two steakhouses, a taqueria, a Korean barbecue restaurant, a burger place, and a fried chicken joint within two miles of her place. Only one of them—one of the steakhouses—takes reservations. He tries not to think about why he knows that. He used to go there with Tai sometimes, for special occasions, before Tai broke up with him last year.

He hems and haws, because she could’ve meant _any_ of these places. And would it be weird to take her to a place he used to go with his ex? He’d said he’d make a reservation, though, and he wants to take Rey somewhere nice.

It’s their first date, and she’s already cooked for him, and for Chewie. She’s so sweet and adorable and what dumb fucking luck he even got to meet her; he really doesn’t want to fuck this up. So he pulls up the phone number for that steakhouse, nods to himself, and makes the call.

***

Rey tries not to worry too much about what to wear for her date with Ben—she really doesn’t think he’ll care, given that she’d propositioned him in pajamas and he’d obviously been all for that. She picks out another little dress, since he seemed to like the one she wore for breakfast, finds a cardigan to go over it, in case it’s cold in the restaurant, takes a few minutes to brush her hair and dig out the mascara she rarely uses.

Ben seems shy again when she steps out onto the porch with him at 6:31 p.m., saying “hi” quietly before taking her hand in his and starting off down the street. Rey hopes he’s not too nervous, but she’s not sure whether trying to talk would distract him or stress him out, so she decides to be patient. He’s wearing the same clothes he was wearing earlier, and she’s glad she didn’t fret too much about dressing up.

After a few minutes he says, “I hope I found the right meat place,” and she can see the side of his mouth quirk up.

“I’m sure it’ll be good, whatever you picked. I’ve honestly never been to any of the real restaurants around here so I won’t know the difference.”

“What’s a real restaurant?” he asks.

“Like, not Taco Bell?” And that does get a laugh from him.

At a crosswalk he looks down at her and says, “I like your dress. The flowers are nice. You like that kind of flower, huh?” Rey hides her face against his arm before smiling up at him.

“I actually didn’t notice they were the same as the, uh, other flower I have. I guess I have a type.”

Ben’s pace slows then, and his hand tightens around hers. They’ve reached a row of storefronts and restaurants; she’s not even sure if the one she’d been thinking of is here or somewhere else. There’s a couple standing outside one of the restaurants, a steakhouse, and they’re looking right at her and Ben. She looks up at Ben to see if he knows them, but his jaw is tight, his eyes straight ahead.

They’ll have to walk right past the couple to get inside, if this steakhouse is indeed the meat place Ben had in mind, so Rey figures there’s no sense pretending not to see them.

She says, “Hello,” her voice clear and bright, her eyebrows raised at the men. She holds Ben’s hand tight. The man with the shaved head smiles grimly at Ben, but the shorter one, with curly hair, smiles back at her and nods.

He says, “Howdy. You all headed in for dinner?” just as the bald one says, “Hi, Ben.”

Ben is trying valiantly to assemble a smile on his face. He says, “No, we were just . . . Rey, this is Tai and Poe. We were going to dinner—um, somewhere else. Just, just passing by.”

Rey thinks to shake hands with Ben’s friends, but he’s already tugging her past, so she just says, “Nice to meet you!” and follows along. He’s walking fast now, and Rey has to work to keep up. He turns the next corner and stops, leans his forehead against the brick of the building.

“Ben? What happened?” Ben had let go of her to press both of his hands against the wall at his chest, the knuckles going white.

He just says, “ _Fuck_ ,” a harsh whisper, and his jaw works. Rey waits, rests her back against the warm brick beside him.

He turns to lean against the wall, mirroring her, says, “I’m sorry, Rey. Let me walk you home.”

“Why? We still have time to get to the restaurant, don’t we?”

“That _was_ the restaurant.”

“Well, we can still—”

“And that was my ex, Rey. And the guy he left me for.” He covers his face with his hands. “ _Fuck_. I shouldn’t care this much. I’m sorry. It’s been more than a year.”

“Is this the first time you’ve seen him?”

Ben nods.

“Then no wonder it hurts! Don’t apologize, Ben.”

“God, I should’ve fucking known he’d be there, though. We used to go there. It’s so fucked up I wanted to take you there, isn’t it? I just . . . I knew it was nice. And I wanted to take you to a nice place. And I didn’t know what—”

“Ben.” Rey interrupts him, steps in front of him to look up into his face, taking his hands. “Ben, I don’t care about the place. I just wanted to spend time with you. You could’ve taken me to this fried chicken place. You could’ve taken me to Taco Bell. I could care less.”

“I’m not taking you to Taco Bell on our first date, Rey.”

“But you could have! Look, I know there’s a taco truck around here somewhere. I swear to god I’ve seen one. Let’s go find it.” She hugs his waist. “Please don't tell me you hate tacos.”

“I don’t hate tacos. I just wanted this to be nice and I’ve fucked it up.”

“But you haven’t! Come along, now.” Rey kisses his cheek, takes his hand, pulls him along behind her down the sidewalk. She lets herself chatter some as they walk, telling him about her favorite taqueria in her hometown, their tacos de lengua and tacos de chicharrón, their habanero sauce, their refried beans.

After a few minutes she spots the truck she’s been looking for, parked in front of a grocery store, and she drags Ben over and orders for them. While they’re waiting Rey jumps at a tap on her shoulder and turns to find her friend Rose standing behind her.

“Rose! I forgot you lived so close by now!” Rey grabs her friend up in a hug.

“I do! It’s so good to see you. I don’t want to interrupt your date—I’m just stopping by to pick up dinner.”

“No worries—we’re just waiting for food anyway. This is Ben! He lives in the neighborhood too. Ben, this is my friend Rose.” Ben smiles a genuine smile—it’s hard to be grumpy in the vicinity of Rose's exuberance—and shakes Rose’s hand.

Rose says, “How are you liking your new place?”

“I love it! It’s old enough to be cute but not so old everything breaks, you know? And it’s got these great front steps. I sit out every morning to drink my coffee and it’s so nice to be outside.”

“Oh, what time?” Rose asks. “I’ve been trying to go for walks in the mornings—I could come see you!”

Their number is called, and Ben steps up to get their bag of food. Rey gives Rose one more hug, says, “Around 7:00 every morning—come see me!”

Ben nods at Rose, says, “Nice to meet you,” and after Rey’s goodbyes they start the walk back to her place. They’d taken a rather roundabout way to get there, and the walk back only takes ten minutes. Ben carries their food in one hand and holds Rey’s hand in the other.

Rey says, “I’m so glad you got to meet Rose. I’ve been so preoccupied with moving I’ve hardly seen her, but she’s one of my best friends.”

“She’s so friendly.”

“She is! But you’ll know if she’s upset with you too,” Rey laughs. She steps up to unlock her door.

Ben says, “It’s good to have friends who’re honest with you.”

Inside, he sets the food out on Rey’s table, lining up the foil-wrapped tacos evenly in front of their chairs, and Rey pulls a beer from the fridge for each of them, slices a lime that’s only a little tough.

She says, “See, isn’t this great, though? Now we can have beer that isn’t marked up a thousand percent.” She sets the bottles on the table, sits down on Ben’s lap, slings an arm around his neck. “And I can sit on your lap if I want to. Can’t do that in a restaurant.” He smiles and she kisses him, goes back to her side of the table.

They eat quietly, but the quiet is comfortable—Ben doesn’t seem as tense as he had after the walk, and Rey’s too busy shoveling tacos in her mouth to say much. She can’t help but moan occasionally; the meat from this place is tender and delicious and the sauce is perfectly spicy and the escabeche is crisp and tart. When she stops to take a breath she notices Ben watching her, a little blush on his cheeks.

She says, “Good tacos?”

Ben nods. “You are a very enthusiastic eater.”

Rey shrugs, says, “Good tacos,” shoves the rest of her last one in her mouth. When Ben finishes she goes into the living room and collapses on the couch, legs sprawled in front of her, sated and content and a little buzzed.

Ben sits down next to her, pulls her up against him with an arm around her shoulder. Rey sighs.

She says, “You probably have to get back to Chewie, huh?” She feels Ben shrug.

“I can,” he says. “I left him at my mom’s, actually. She offered to take him, just in case.”

Rey shifts to smirk up at him. “Just in case, huh?” He blinks and stutters, and she says, “So you can spend the night?”

Ben nods. “If you want me to.”

Rey says, “Of course I want you to.” She stands up, taking his hand. “Let’s go to bed then.”

“It’s not even 8:30, Rey.”

“So?”

Ben tugs on her hand, says her name, and he sounds so serious now that she looks down at him, worried.

He says, “I’m sorry again, about earlier. I should’ve picked somewhere else. I should’ve known. . . .” Rey kneels down in front of him to listen.

She says, “You couldn’t have known.” She wraps her hands around his calves. “And it turned out to be a perfect date. The walk was perfect, and we got to see Rose, and we got to eat tacos and drink cheap beer and not worry about what fancy waiters think of our table manners.”

Ben says, “My table manners are fine, thank you,” but it’s a little perfunctory. Rey rests her head on his knees.

She says, “Come to bed and let me rub your back.” She feels his hand warm on her bare spine, and when he whispers, “Alright,” she unfolds from the floor and leads him to the bedroom.

She turns on her bedside lamp, just bright enough to cast a warm glow over the room. She takes off Ben’s sweater, his jeans, and he lies down in the bed; Rey pushes at his shoulder so he’ll roll over to his stomach. She gets in bed with him, leaving her dress on, and just stretches out over him, resting her head on his bare shoulder blade. She feels him breathe under her, noses at the notches of his spine.

She sits up to straddle his thighs and runs her fingertips from his neck to the dimples above his ass, watches the goosebumps rise. With firmer pressure she kneads at his lower back and up the muscles along his spine. When she gets to his shoulders she has to scoot up to reach, and she finds it increasingly hard to focus on rubbing the knots out of his upper back when each movement presses her cunt down onto the soft warm cushion of his ass.

Ben breathes deeply, his hands resting beside him on her shins. She tries to move with his breath, to match her breath to his, to keep him calm and present. But there’s something so freeing about his pure enjoyment of her attention, his eyes closed, his complete trust in her caring for him, combined with the total vulnerability of his body—and Rey feels her breath growing shallow despite her efforts, her heart beginning to race. She feels her pulse in her clit.

She pauses to toss her dress to the floor, and Ben’s hands tighten on her shins as she jostles over him. She pulls down the waistband of his boxers to knead at the firm muscles under his pelvis, then smooths her hands all the way up his shoulders, pressing her breasts to his back and stretching out over him again. She tucks a lock of hair behind his ear, kisses the shell of it.

And she whispers, “Please let me fuck you.” Ben groans and nods, lies still on his stomach while she gets out her dildo, not bothering with the harness this time. She shimmies off her underwear, presses a finger into herself to find she’s already wet enough to forgo lube, gasping when her palm brushes over her swollen clit. She presses the bulb end of the toy into herself, sits down on her heel to hold it in.

She feels herself clenching down on the thickness of the bulb as she leans forward to spread Ben’s cheeks with both hands. She drips lube between them and slicks it across his little hole, dipping her fingertip into him just enough to make his back arch up toward her. She teases him that way until he murmurs, “ _Please, Rey_ ,” his voice cracking from disuse. She luxuriates in his moan when she slides her finger into him.

Once she’s worked him open and squirming back on her fingers, she tugs his hips back over his feet. He presses his chest into the comforter, and she slicks more lube over both of them, wrapping an arm around his waist to stroke his erection. The head of him is hot and swollen and leaking from her teasing. She takes his hand and wraps it around his dick, says, “Take care of it for me,” before she sits back up.

One hand gripping firm at his hip, she presses the tip of her dildo into him, thrusting just barely in and out until he whimpers. When she slides in fully, his hand stills over his cock just for a moment, until she begins to move inside him. She takes a few slow strokes, getting the hang of the angle until she finds one that makes Ben groan and rubs the ridges of the toy over her clit.

She’s taking her time, and Ben’s having none of it—he presses his hips back against her with each slow thrust and finally says outright, “Please fuck me, Rey, _Jesus_.” His hand grips the comforter under his shoulder; the other matches her pace on his dick. He bites down on the comforter when she speeds up, groaning harsh through his teeth, and Rey can’t help but bury the dildo in him, giving him as much as he’ll take.

She’s working herself up with the haphazard pressure on her clit via her thrusts and the rigid thickness inside her, but she feels like she’s riding the coattails of Ben’s orgasm: more than anything it’s his obvious pleasure that’s getting her there. She tries to be careful not to fuck him too hard, worrying she’ll hurt him, but as he loses himself to his orgasm she loses herself too.

Ben growls as he comes on her comforter, Rey pumping into him hard and fast to reach her own climax, holding onto him as she does. Afterward, as he catches his breath, she eases out of him slowly, pulls him into the bathroom to clean up. She perches on the edge of the bathtub to wipe him off with a warm cloth, lets him take care of her too, lets him hold her cooling body against his chest.

When Ben wanders back to the bedroom she goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She leans against the counter to drink it, thinking about the fact that she’s eaten a third of her weekend meals with Ben, who she’s known for less than two days. She’s spent more time with Ben this weekend than she’s spent alone and awake; she's had more orgasms with him than she’s had with another person in years. Practically strangers, and clueless, really, about what each other needed.

She refills the glass to take to Ben. She settles into the bed next to him, pulling the sheet and a fresh blanket over them, and as he curls around her, skin to skin, she thinks about how he likes her so freely, how he listens to her so intentionally, and she decides that that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Now with fucking amazing art by [Tooka](https://twitter.com/MizTooka)!!! pls admire these beauties in all their sweet-horny glory thx to our talented Tooka 💕
> 
> As always if you feel there's something additional I should've tagged, please feel free to say so in a comment or DM me on Twitter; I'm at [@van1lla_v1lla1n](https://twitter.com/van1lla_v1lla1n). Please come say hi regardless!


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